


Bloodline of Darkness: Beginning

by sinister666



Category: The Conjuring (Movies), The Nun (2018)
Genre: F/M, Motherly love, Reunion, Sacrifices made, also their significant others, based on "love child scenario" posted by zombiemasquerade on tumblr, burke please be a good friend, demonic children, demonic father, if you think it's fast paced well demons are hyper possessive of their offspring, irene is so wonderful he fell in love after two days and I am not being ironic, one night irene knock's on valak's door because he knocker her up, she obviously had nowhere to go folks don't be judgemental, they don't bother to consider long either, turning away from faith, valak you need to work on your sadistic issues for your kids, well lucky for him she had to return
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-07-17 15:55:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16098914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinister666/pseuds/sinister666
Summary: In midst of a raging tempest, Irene knocks on Valak's door once again, plagued by consequences of giving into his temptations.Will the President of Hell be able to tame his malevolent tendencies for the sake of his beloved and their offspring?Meanwhile, Father Burke is wrought-up by the sudden disappearance of his friend. With the help of Frenchie, he sets out to find out what befell Irene.Will she trust them enough with her secret, or shall she be forced to make another sacrifice to protect her child?Based on "The Love Child" scenario posted by @zombiemasquerade on Tumblr.





	1. Tempest

**Author's Note:**

> I felt truly inspired to write this story. It's one of the "greater things for them two" I mentioned on Celestial. Give me opinions? It's only first chapter, so things are vague and maybe confusing. Let's see how much of this beast I can flesh out.

Claws of grimness sunk even deeper into the small, forsaken Romanian village as storm raged, faded moon and chilly stars clothed by thick, somber clouds.  Roofs creaked, windows shook in the hammering rain, rivers of mud overflooded narrow, unpaved streets. Shadows of Medieval gloom grew longer and longer, causing old, rotting trees to weep. The world breathed life, evolved, but this forest-shrouded hollow stood still, suffocating in mold. On nights as such, misery would become unbearable, not even a scruffy drunk poking their head out. Only a horse would neigh in it’s shed from time to time, irritated by a cold leak through the roof, or by rascal piglets darting around it’s hooves. 

 

Thunder roared, silver gash of lightning ignited the night for a brief, petrifying moment. However one plagued soul felt comforted by the desolate, hostile atmosphere. Lean figure wrapped in a gray coat, damp and weighting their burning shoulders down, hood obscuring their face. Why would someone willingly rush into the menacing woods, towards the hearth of evil locals would not speak about, not even in whispers, not even after it’s supposed cleansing?.. Perhaps hunted by a foe, or perhaps wanted for a crime they did not commit?.. No villager saw, none would care, merely shake their heads in pity for the poor lunatic, secretly hoping death was to claim them. After all, what else could their return mean if not liberation of forces so evil mortal mind could not comprehend?.. The shape swayed a little, as if about to collapse on roadside and never get up, yet swallowed their agony roused by miles taken on foot, soaked to the bone, trembling from the cold and budding fewer, but still pushing themselves forward, despite the exhaustion, despite their fading consciousness. 

 

Stains of decay had long been washed off the crumbling stone stairs, but even ghastlier terror clenched her heart. The young nun found herself gazing upon the ancient, ominous castle in stale silence, as if tormented by indecision to cross the point of no return or not. However soon sighed, biting her lip. Turning back was already impossible. Her legs would not bear another meter of stampede through tall damp grass and thorny shrubbery, even if she did have another shelter to seek. Shakily, she strode up, only to realize the door had groaned open already, not giving her a chance to knock, and her tired, bourbon-colored gaze collided with familiar, venomous yellow orbs. 

 

“Irene…” low, diabolical voice sounded a little surprised. Had his devilish senses not uttered who awaited on the threshold?..

 

There she stood, weary and shaking, wallowing in the bitter, wrathful tempest, last drops of warmth and vigor drained completely from her mellow veins. Lucifer, blue was already seeping into those sweet, rosy lips! What hazard could have forced her to face such cruelty?! Seven Sins, could it be?..

 

Paying no second thoughts, the demon pulled her inside, refusing to bother about questioning before the poor little dove was out of hurricane’s reach. Bruised legs gave up, and the young nun collapsed into his arms. “Valak…” Irene gasped almost inaudibly, giving up her battle for strength and clinging onto the President of Hell, onto the smouldering heat of his body. 

 

It took a long time for another word to be uttered. Valak tossed her dirty coat aside, wrapping his own long crimson robe around her, immune to the frosty air nibbling his bare torso. He settled Irene’s limp form on a divan in front of the fireplace, which now graced the castle’s dismal interior morphed according to his own deluxe tastes. The convent was slaughtered, the show was long over, leaving him lone king in the palace - and he did not shy away from acting as such. The young nun coughed faintly, gazing up, too weak to as much as lift her head. Thorns of concern pained the demon’s black heart, seeing clear signs of deadly hypothermia. For the first time since Great War, Valak found his healing knowledge, obtained dismissively to gain superiority on the field, genuinely useful. Gently, he pressed a bowl of hot water to her quivering mouth, coaxing the girl to drink, hoping it shall stir her icy bloodstream. Mayhaps an hour had passed, only then did Irene collect enough strength and whispered, unveiling mystery behind the madness of her journey: 

 

“Valak… I’m with child…”. 

 

He nodded, suspicion confirmed. “I know, my dear, I know” clawed hand fondly brushed a damp lock of hair off her face. Ever since that heated night they spent together in the chapel, ever since the final sorrowful meeting of eyes before she left, coerced by sense of duty, the demon wondered if his seed had sprouted, and would his lover return upon feeling the sapling. 

 

“I am… I am so sorry…” tears glimmered on Irene’s sunken cheeks “I acted so recklessly, without thinking at all… I was so careless to travel here like a prison breaker, in such weather… Not to mention” she sobbed, unable to conceal the torturous emotions, days of feeling completely helpless and physical exhaustion now breaking the walls she had built to remain strong “I abandoned you, betrayed the feelings we found for each other, and now I come back, carrying our child… not knowing if you even can bear to look at me, or if you want the baby to ever see light...”. 

 

“Shush” Valak soothed, leaning down and pressing a loving kiss upon her brow “Is it not clear that I do?.. Longing for your return, my little fawn, had tormented me day and night for months unending, and I rejoice at it’s dawn. You were scared of Vatican. Rightfully so” he reminded Irene the unfortunate motive behind her hectic journey “as they would never have allowed you, or our demonic fruit, to live. But there’s nothing to fear anymore. I’m here, now”.

 

Hearing sincerity in his response, relief flooded her doubt-plagued spirit, extinguishing the wildfire of excruciating fright of what awaited her once she came face to face with her lover, her choices and her destiny. Valak did not resent her, nor did he despise their offspring. That moment she realized just how mighty the affection towards him flourished, no matter how unbelievable it sounded for a fire sparked by one day of a battle and one night of passion. Love stronger than God. Yes, Irene escaped her vows to protect the child of darkness growing inside her, for a mother’s instinct could not be defeated by any oath, but now she finally comprehended that loyalty which caused her to turn away from Valak was ultimately false - her genuine devotion back then already belonged to him. Gently, her satiny hand pulled the demon closer for a soft kiss - a dream of hers at last again true. However suddenly, light which ignited her eyes once more clouded with dismay. 

 

“Yet what if the baby was hurt?” the youngly-expecting mother shuddered at such a gruesome thought “What if I have gotten myself sick, and the little one won’t make it?..”. 

 

“The little one is completely fine, my love” a tender smile, so unlike his usual malicious, serpentine self crooked the hellion’s lips “I can feel it. And so shall you, once the panic releases you. You see, my white dove, a gift such as yours allows not only to sense the presence of those deceased” heavy hand lightly stroked her stomach “but those this world had not yet welcomed, too. It feels like if touching soft, warm fabric, and their spirit manifests at the back of your skull as a lovely gentle glow… not pink or blue like many would idly deem” he chuckled, amused by ridiculous stereotypes humanity had made up “the spectre of hues varies greatly... Our child’s seems to appear a deep shade of maroon” the demon explained, dazed for a briefest second as for the first time, he fondled his own flesh and blood, still shielded in it’s mother’s womb. 

 

An affectionate smile poked through the mask of fear. Irene had never thought an old, steel-hearted, battle-scarred devil capable of such absolute, soul-melting endearment only a young father could experience. Not that she could imagine the gentleness which enfolded her heart, fluttering like a hummingbird’s, physically possible either - it became almost difficult to breathe. She heeded his tale, relaxing and brushing mentally against her own midsection, indeed met by a sensation of touching a soft bud yet to blossom, radiating pure, vivid red lumniscence. Feral yowls of the storm hushed into abyss and reality behind the castle’s sepulchral walls seemed to have evanesced. The word ceased to exist, only rumbling of the fireplace and Valak’s idly loving smile remaining. Anguish of leaving the only life she had only known behind, looming disquiet about the future, dread of hounds lurking around the corner, ready to gun down both her and her unborn baby, it all vanished. Languor now cocooned Irene, slowly pulling her into a serene oblivion. At last, the young nun felt easy enough to sleep. 

 

Noticing, the demon smiled, and snatched a heavy rabbit pelt blanket idly laying aside, tucking his lover up “Sleep, my Irene. Rest is what you need the most” he coaxed suavely. 

 

“Valak…” she muttered, whiskey-hued gaze half-lidded and idle “The Vatican will look for me… and they might likely put pieces together. What now?.. What will happen?..” her words now bore wonder rather than concern. Irene trusted Valak, confiding on his infernal power unreservedly, too exhausted too dreadfully doubt, and unwilling to give fear any more control. 

 

Had she not suffered enough, gaunt, gory-skinned and two days without a droplet of sleep?.. Had her little one not been dragged through enough peril?..

 

“This is our domain, my little white dove. They shall never find you. And if they do.. well, they shall not cross our castle’s door alive. Worry not anymore, leave all your questions, all your doubts for tomorrow. Sleep. I shall protect you… both of you”. 


	2. Reunions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so fucking sorry I had not uploaded for nearly two months. I was busy as Hell with various creative works, but I am so glad to write for The Nun again. The chapter is mostly a soft, slow one. Maybe a little bit short... I introduce a couple of characters though. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> P.S. - I LOVE THE DUKE OF SAINT CARTA. Fuck those Tempars.

“You grew a beard…” 

 

Laughter, surprisingly tender for a daemon such as himself, rumbled from the depth of Valak’s throat. The President of Hell tilted his head almost playfully, affectionate gaze catching Irene’s. 

 

“Truly? This is the first thing you notice?..”. 

 

“In my defense, it’s quite a significant aspect of your… visage”. 

 

“Well then” the demon cocked his eyebrow, mischievously stroking the dark, goatish bristles on his chin “Do you enjoy what you see?”.

 

Irene fell silent for a brief moment, pretending to skittishly ponder before smiling softly and nodding “Yes. I think it suits you…” suddenly, she once again found herself quiet, and remained so much longer this time, an almost pained shadow dimming her whiskey-colored eyes as she glanced away from Valak.

 

“What is it?..” concern obscured the impish fondness radiated by his posture upon seeing Irene awake at last “Is something wrong?..”.

 

“No, I just… I missed you” the young nun, or rather former one, muttered, swallowing the lump in her throat and shaking off awkwardness which unexpectedly overwhelmed her in Valak’s presence. Her words must have sounded so childish, yet caught in a tempest of pulsing and madly overlapping emotions, she found no other fitting words to describe the feeling. Joy, guilt, love and relief all merged into one. What in final blink yesterday seemed a surreal dream - a hallucination roused by fear, pain and exhaustion, now, with head clearer and bones rested, felt so incredibly undeniable.

 

“I’m here, now… I’m here, my love” Valak assured, striding over to the bed and sitting down beside his lover.  

 

Without second thoughts, Irene grasped the demon’s hand, caressing his long, skeletal fingers and black, vulturous talons to soothe the howling which tore her nerves apart. His skin was cold as a cadaver’s and ridden with scars, and she fought to focus on it. 

 

“Look around, my little white dove” Valak murmured gently, having noticed her wordless struggle and attempting to aid her just as he soothed the former nun after shielding her from the storm last night when he spoke about maroon glow of their child’s spirit to draw her attention away from worry “Do you recognize the room?...”.

 

Irene furrowed her brows, the demon’s question catching her by surprise. Shining gaze darted around as she wondered what could it possibly mean. The room was quite a small space of cold, ancient-looking gray stone, yet embellished by gorgeous, be it macabre tapestries depicting scenes akin to Dante’s Inferno, meanwhile a princely Persian carpet masked the gruffness of floor. Candles of sleek black wax sat in holders of pure hold, snuffed out in daylight. Glancing to her left, Irene noticed a large bookshelf by the tall, arch-shaped window. On the right, she caught a glimpse of an antique mahogany desk covered in scriptures and queer, likely ritualistic items she could not name. In the middle of the room, stood a dainty stained glass coffee table, and at the end - an enormous wardrobe adorned with carvings, and a heavy mirror framed by ebony serpents next to it. 

 

“I’m not certain…” the former nun murmured, only to gasp “Wait, is it the bedroom Sister Oana locked me in?” she asked, choosing to push away the fact Sister Victoria might also have taken her life here. 

 

“Indeed” Valak confirmed in amusement “Quite changed, is it not?” he sounded pleased.

 

“It’s beautiful” one could not possibly deny the glamor once the Great President’s lavish taste conjoined with the gothic grimness. 

 

“I claimed it as my own. Could not resist it’s cosy charm. I am glad you like it” he squeezed Irene’s delicate hand, referring to her now staying at his side. 

 

Irene leaned against wine-colored velvet pillows, tension fading completely. She brought the soft pelt blanket around her frail shoulders. 

 

“What will happen now?” she brushed a stubborn caramel lock behind her ear “Where will we go? We are together at last, yet I still worry about the Vatican discovering us. I trust you, and I trust your power… I would not worry if not for the baby”. 

 

Irene wondered if they shall take departure to Hell now. To the former nun’s own immense surprise, she felt no dread stir her nerve at such ominous and in a way obscure thought. Hell was what she prayed for salvation against before even comprehending what damnation means. Yet beside her fallen beloved, and feeling his daemonic child under her heart, she realized any shape of pious fear had abandoned her, replaced by… curiosity. Discovering what truly lurks beyond the wall of Eternal Fire, where Devils and Sinners perpetually reign unending lands of Darkness suddenly appeared strangely intriguing to Irene. After all, with Valak as her protector, what fright could torment her?.. Not to mention Hell without a doubt will be a friendlier place towards a Bride of Christ who turned her back on him for a demon. 

 

“It is far too perilous for you to cross the barrier between Hell and Earth in your fragile condition, my love. Raging energies might cause horrendous damage to both you and the baby. I’d suggest we stay in Saint Carta for a while. Agents of Vatican would not dare step a foot into the castle, and even if they did the Rift is beneath our feel. I shall summon my legions in an eyeblink”. 

 

There goes witnessing ablaze Inferno… for a time being. Irene could not tell was she a little disappointed or, in fact, joyful. Sentiment towards Saint Carta remained undeniable, and a chance to bask in tranquility of a castle in the woods of Romania, Valak alone by her side, sounded beyond delightful. Such peace will not be an option once the little one is born… 

 

“Just you and me… seems like a dream” a smile again crept onto her face. 

 

“Well, it indeed sounds like a dream” Valak scratched his head, smirking faintly “However I must admit we shall have company. I am to keep visits from other hellions as rare as possible, but our not quite alive friends will remain”. 

 

Irene gasped out of shock, gorgeous eyes growing wide “Wait, you mean the?...” her voice broke, lips remaining silently agape as she stared at the demon. 

 

“The nuns of Saint Carta never departed, my Little White Dove” Valak finished before she could recover, confirming her flair “and neither did Duke Abelair”. 

 

“The Duke of Saint Carta… Is here too?” Irene stuttered, finally regaining her voice and wondering why did she not encounter his spirit the previous time. Would he not be working for Valak?..

 

“Perpetual repentance had kept Abelair chained and powerless for centuries, but with me taking over, he has been liberated to roam the Halls he himself built. You two will get acquainted as soon as you feel firm enough to leave the bed” he planted a tender kiss onto her knuckles. 

 

“I would love to move around” Irene sat up, rubbing her lower back which still remained slightly sore from the strain she endured yesterday “See how you altered the abbey… Meet Duke Abelair, reunite with Sister Oana…”. 

 

“You two seem to have grown quite close, have you not?.. As close as you may become in a day, anyway”.

 

“I fell for you in a day, did I not?” she teased, scooting onto the demon’s lap and wrapping her delicate arms around his broad shoulders. 

 

“You did” Valak admitted, pressing his lips against her warm forehead “You indeed tend to move in rather… swift pace. Not that I am complaining of course” scarred hands rested on her slender waist, serpentine orbs locked with the former nun’s amorous half-lidded gaze. 

 

“Please, tell me the phantoms are to give us peaceful times…”.

 

“As much peaceful times as we desire...” he promised and smooched her satiny lips before pressing a kiss onto the spot of her pulse “I shall gladly show you around the castle, my Little White Dove, but for it I’d suggest you robe yourself for it… Unless you’d like to put it off for a moment” he whispered into her temple suggestively. 

 

A feverous blush darkened Irene’s ivory cheeks, for she realized no garment covered her frail form but a gossamer white nightgown. Feeling the heat of his body and the coolness of his skeletal fingers seep through the vapoury cloth, sensing the smooth, fine fabric of his mantle against her bare skin set her lower half ablaze, yet managed to collect herself somehow. 

 

“I’d like to look around first…” she pecked him on the lips and slid out of his embrace “Later though, I doubt I shall be able to resist you”. 

 

“I am beyond glad to hear so” the demon licked his bottom lip seductively, rising up and walking over to the wardrobe “Sadly, there is not much to choose from for a beauty like you. I had a couple of gowns brought overnight by my tailors, however quite a lot appointments remain ahead to endow you with every garment your heart fancies, my love”. 

 

Irene blushed brighter, modest upbringing far from gone. She was not used to luxury, nor had she ever genuinely craved it like many others secretly did, focused on her duty and finding little value in material riches. It was to change now, she knew… But perhaps required a bit of time to adjust. 

 

“I do not need much… I never had much” the former novice murmured shyly. 

 

“Please, do not rob your old snobbish snake of pleasure to spoil his queen like she deserves to be spoiled” Valak coaxed suavely, drawing two dresses out of the wardrobe and laying them in front of his lover. 

 

“They… they are both so lovely!..” Irene nearly teared up in fascination despite her modesty, much more prone to intense emotions in her gentle state “How am I supposed to choose which one to wear?..” she glanced up with Valak, fair face shining with adoration and gratitude.

 

“Pick whichever might make you feel comforted, my Little White Dove” he offered, obviously more sophisticated when it came to attire “It is what matters the most for a mother-to-be”. 

 

Irene caressed the gorgeous shimmering fabrics with adoration, savoring every fold and every gracious detail. In the end, she chose the ground-sweeping, long-sleeved gown of cherry velvet with gold-adorned neckline, putting away the no less ravishing silver satin one. 

 

“Red suits you faultlessly, my beauty” Valak complimented, remembering the evening he spied on Irene and her exorcist friend dine in the lodge. 

 

“It sounds like you’d rather rip it off me than admire me wearing it”. 

 

“Well… you might proclaim me guilty. No matter how enchanting the robe may appear, to see it cover you will always be a shame”. 

 

***

 

“Sister Irene!” 

 

Frosty arms pressed the former novice to the young wraithy nun’s unbeating bosom. Sweet laughter erupted from Irene’s throat, chest bubbling with glee at such excited greeting from her fast friend. 

 

“Sister Oana!.. I’m so glad to see you”. 

 

“I was so worried for you, Sister” the ghost released Irene, squeezing her shoulders softly “You looked so ailed and weary last night…”.

 

“Sister Oana refused to leave your side till dawn” Valak noted, leaning against the nearby wall as he idly watched the two greet each other. 

 

“For a moment we feared you would not make it… Your heart was severely weak, and your blood barely pulsed… How are you feeling? Did you rest well, Sister?...”.

 

“Yes, I feel a lot better” Irene assured, palm unconsciously placed on her still flat stomach “But I doubt I am a nun anymore… Please, Sister, It’s simply Irene”. 

 

“Irene… that’s right. You will be a mother in a few months” the phantom’s tone caused her words to sound almost like a question - as if she still found the knowledge hardly believable, thus asked for final confirmation. Yet without second thoughts, she found herself contradicting the timid uncertainty with a sudden, even more coy inquiry “May I… feel the little one’s spirit?...”. 

 

“Yes, yes of course” noticing how meek her friend appeared, Irene grasped Sister Oana’s wrist and guided her chilly hand to her midsection, encouraging the mellow ghost. 

 

“It’s… it’s so tender…” Sister Oana whispered in fascination “And unusually bright…”. 

 

“It could be a sign of multiples” a deep, lispy voice interrupted the wraithy nun “Their auras tend to remain merged at such early stages of development”. 

 

“I was not speaking to you, sorcerer” Sister Oana snapped angrily, glaring at the grim figure cloaked in crimson which now lingered beside Valak. 

 

“You must be Duke Abelair” Irene greeted in a much kinder voice, sensing a gingerly shiver under her ribcage, but not succumbing to the intimidation of darkness and blasphemy his ancient phantasm radiated. 

 

“Indeed I am. Forgive me for cutting in rudely… I had read many texts about the energies of children yet to be born, however never had a chance to witness this enthralling phenomenon. You could call my actions childishly giddy” he slowly approached Irene before bowing down in respect, face distorted in a grimace closest to a friendly smile such a somber creature managed to force out “It is an immense honor to meet you, Lady Irene. Fortunately, we never has a chance to encounter one another as foes”. 

 

“It is an honor to meet you as well, Duke Abelair”. 


	3. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Folks, folks, folks... I did not upload for like a month again... The times were hectic and not to mention I was in editing Hell. To the point when my mind straight up rejected information as I kept reading it over and over and over again. I admit I just wanted to post it already for fuck's sake. I apologize if the chapter feels jerky and vague for that reason. I kind of tried to go that way for the moment, cutting between London and Romania. I may or may not edit it some more later. Ugh... kill me. Also, do not worry, I will explain things such as the Chapel of Lucifer and more behind a... certain gory scene later in the story.

_Three months later_

 

“What do you mean Sister Irene is missing?!”.

 

“Sister Irene…” young Sister Mary mumbled, nervously clutching the rosary around her neck “disappeared three months ago. One morning, she was just… gone. All few of her possessions left behind. The police has found no trace or clue. We… don’t know what happened, Father”.  

 

Anthony Burke collapsed into a chair nearby, dizzy and glassy-eyed as his mind struggled desperately to comprehend the horror which has been just revealed to him. His dear friend…

 

Six months had passed since the blood-chilling events in Saint Cartha. Six months since the two friends parted ways, Irene returning to work in the children’s hospital, a professed nun and no longer a novice, while Burke set out on yet another hunt for miracles. They had exchanged a couple of letters, however only now was the exorcist able to visit his friend at last. Visit and find nothing but a cold investigation on her mysterious vanishing.

 

“I am so sorry for my violent reaction, Sister” Burke sighed, rubbing his brow. It was obvious how much his outburst had frightened poor Mary, and he felt rather awful.

 

“It’s alright, Father” the young nun forced out a smile, biting her lip softly “I understand your concern. You heard very grim news after all”.

 

“Sister Mary… I know the police discovered no leads so far, but… I doubt I will be able to sit still and wait. Perhaps, just perhaps there is somebody I could possibly speak to? Somebody, anybody who may possibly know a little more?”.

 

“Well, Father, I believe you talking to the other Sisters would do no harm. Sister Irene was particularly close with Sister Judith and Sister Magdalene. I believe if anybody might know a slightest hidden detail, it’s either of them. You will find Sister Judith in the archives, and Sister Magdalene should be in the kitchens at this hour”.

 

“Thank you, Sister Mary. If you don’t mind, I will go look for them now”.

 

“Not at all, Father. You’re… welcome”.

 

***

 

Irene laughed, trying to push her lover away playfully. The two rested among blossoming black magic violas in Valak’s beloved greenhouse at the heart of Saint Cartha, Irene straddling his lap as the demon mischievously nuzzled his face against her delicate neck.

 

“Quit! Your beard is tickling me!” she squealed.

 

“Mmmm…” forked tongue brushed against the warm spot of her pulse “I thought you enjoyed it...” he teased.

 

“Really?...” Irene wheezed in a desperate attempt to regain her breath “Well…” her whiskey-colored gaze lit up even brighter “As much as you may enjoy this!” suddenly, she slipped her right hand between his wings and began to scratch mercilessly, causing Valak to twitch from laughter.

 

“Whoah!... Hey!... Hey, cease… cease it! You little vixen...” he hissed, serpentine fangs flashing in a grin “Careful, love, don’t squish the little ones” the demon softly patted her swollen stomach.

 

“Because it’s obviously about the little ones” she snickered, however did cease to torment him and poked his nose instead “And not you being afraid of tickling”.

 

“I’m not afraid of tickling” he rumbled, nipping on her finger “Merely… not used to it”.

 

“Funny excuse for a demon who has withstood so many battles”.

 

“I’ll let you win this one” Valak sighed, however his lingering smile betrayed the absence of irritation and suddenly, he leaned down, pressing a tender kiss onto her heavied midsection, murmuring something hardly audible in a language she did not recognize. Aramaic, perhaps.

 

A rough bump against her ribcage made Irene gasp quietly. Valak’s gaze shot up, dimmed with concern.

 

“What’s wrong?”.

 

“Nothing” she sighed, relieved “Their kicks are not as easy as before. They like your voice it seems… What did you say, anyway?”.

 

“I called them my darling princes”.

 

“You think it’s two sons?..”.

 

“I can not be certain. Their auras merge too tightly, not to mention one hides behind the other. What do your senses tell you?.. They grow under your heartbeat. I might not be able to reach them too closely, yet you likely can. Mother knows best...”.

 

“I feel it’s a girl and a boy” Irene cocked her head ” In my dreams, I see a girl and a boy” she caressed the crook of his left horn mindlessly “But I can’t remember their faces… Neither their eyes. I only recall the pure sensation of how gorgeous they are… Each time I wake, my love has strengthened together with their lashes, their fingernails… It’s almost overwhelming, the wait” a single tear rolled down her blushed cheek “I just want to hold them already”.

 

“So do I, light of my life” the President of Hell admitted, clawed thumb drying the tear fondly “I must confess that fatherly instincts are still a bit foreign to me, however iron in my blood has without a doubt been breached by their blossoms. For the first time in aeons, my spirit feels warm… You, and our children are the candles that shine to it”.

“Val...” Irene closed her eyes, pressing her forehead against his “It makes my soul soar… when you speak so kindly… You become so unspeakably handsome...”.

 

“It is all my love for you, my little white dove… that sprouts lilacs in Hades…” he whispered, one arms snaking around her waist to pull her closer.

 

“I love you too… Blood of my heart”.

 

Irene withdrew from Valak’s softened face a mere inch to lay her head on his shoulder, inhaling the smoky scent of his long, midnight black hair, fingertips still gently gliding over his horn. The two fell silent for a long while, basking in serenity of one another’s heartbeat entwined with sweetly enchanting aromas that filled the greenhouse. A tranquil sigh escaped Irene’s lungs, lashes fluttering shut, for strange weariness seized her mind and her body. A frequent occurrence lately… Weariness stalked her every step, never taking long to gain victory over her mind and body. Noticing his darling’s drowsy state, Valak started to hum an ancient tune, running his vulturous talons through her charming auburn locks. Sinking into such gentle soothing, she soon laid asleep in his arms, rosy lips curled into a peaceful and warm smile.

 

***

 

“I already told everything I know to the police, Father” Sister Judith explained somberly, looking up from piles of papers which littered her desk, youthful face gloomy with shadows of building grief and slightest annoyance. Her heart was heavy, exhausted from evergrowing worry about poor Irene’s obscure fate, as well as unending repetition of same tale over and over again with tears stiffly held back. “There’s nothing more I can offer you”.

 

“Sister, Please…” Anthony Burke lowered his gaze. How odd - the man had stood strong against unspeakable horrors of most wrathful war this Earth had ever witnessed, against blood, and death, against crumbling hope of man and cruelest of infernal apparitions, yet now caught himself intimidated by a frail nun in the cluttered archive of a children’s hospital… Perhaps, the exorcist sadly realized, because of the festering plague in his heart weakened him more ruthlessly than any demon of Hell, and the mellow woman possibly, just possibly held a tiniest drop of remedy “The Police dismissed me with a pathetic formal excuse of ongoing investigation. But Sister Irene is a dear friend to me… just like she is to you. Please... guilt will tear me apart alive. Have mercy…”.

 

The young nun hesitated for a moment which seemed to Burke as long as a millenium, however finally, feeling sympathy towards the awfully miserable man as well as feeling a relation to him because of her own friendship with Sister Irene, responded to his plea with a dry nod.

 

“Very well, Father… Sadly, this rather peculiar event is little less of a mystery to me than it is to you, or anybody else but Sister Irene herself. Upon returning from her quite unexpected journey, she seemed... distressed, badly distressed… Poor thing. What befell her abroad is beyond my knowledge… I asked more times than I can count, yet each every one she’d refuse to enlighten me. Sister Irene had… changed. Not for the better, certainly. She used to be such a shining, youthful soul, but suddenly... She would shed tears into the pillow every night… Even slip aside during the day sometimes, unable to conceal the pain. Her face lost color, her eyes lost light… She barely ate, though vomited frequently… Hardly slept, and even when she did, nightmares had hear leaping up in terror during most ungodly hours. Me and the Sisters were very concerned for her welfare. None of us had any doubt some illness was tormenting her, be it of physical or spiritual nature. Could have been both… We did not find out in time. One morning, without a warning or at least a goodbye note, she was gone, few things she had possessed, including her habit as well as rosary, left behind. Ever since, all in our power was hope. We have been praying continuously for Sister Irene’s safe return, but with passing time, our guesses have become grim”.

 

Father Burke shuddered, shirt now soaked in cold sweat, fear and guilt sinking deeper and deeper into his spine, relief he seeked from tiniest crums of information about his friend extinguished. Rough hand clenched into a first, knuckles turning white, bruises surely to linger given how harshly nails dove into the skin. The priest muttered something under his breath - words so inarticulate not even himself, let alone Sister Judith could comprehend.

 

“If you’ll allow me to advise you, Father” the nun spoke in a much softer tone, understanding too well what thoughts raged in his head “Do not attempt to take matters into your own hands. It will only inflict more harm… Sister Irene is in God’s mercy. Trust him, and pray for her protection”.

 

Trust God?.. Anthony Burke took a sharp breath, fighting to silence bitter laughter that tickled his heavied lungs. How foolish! Three months of blind prayer! And has God listened?.. No! Of course not! If he was to leave Irene’s fate for His care, best possible outcome might be closure after her body is discovered on a riverbank! No… He had no time to spare. He was to take action.

 

“Thank you for your time, Sister” he nodded, and spun on his heel, swiftly exiting the hospital archive.

 

***

 

“Silence!” Valak snarled, sickening sound of a backhanded slap following the vicious command “I’m tired of your snivelling. Now tell me where is that maggot Conroy hiding?!”.

 

The chained figure groaned in pain, bloodstained saliva trickling from the corner of his trembling mouth. Broken legs shivered under the weight of his abused body, passing moments of touching the ground conjoined into endless agony, dislocated arms held in place and wailful pulsations of ripped, swelling muscles only fuelling the flame - the President of Hell made sure not a single excruciating thorn would bypass his victim’s flesh (having hung the unfortunate creature from the ceiling, yet leaving restrains loose and long enough for the captive’s feet to firmly touch the floor, thus damning him to collapse into most physically uncomfortable position once his legs gave in). The man mumbled something incoherent, however it seemed to merely irritate his captor further. Gauntlet-covered fist collided with the captive’s stomach in sheer, brute force, causing already heavy lungs to lose last drops of air, crimson bile gushing through miserably agape lips. Such reaction miraculously amused Valak, cold laughter echoing against his bared fangs.

 

“Need I ask you again, filthy worm?!” the demon bellowed “Where is Cardinal Conroy hiding?!”.

 

Valak knew Conroy had foolishly left his dear sanctuary of Vatican - infiltrated devil worshippers informed him days before the plan’s actual execution, and this time the President of Hell was determined not to let the good Cardinal slip through his fingers again. Conroy had caused far too much trouble to get away with it. Ten years ago… The term came to an end ten whole years ago!.. But instead of keeping his end of the pact and turning his soul over like any noble satanist would, the bastard captured Valak’s most trusted Lieutenant, skulked at the heart of Vatican and sent his pitbull Anthony Burke to Saint Cartha to try and banish the President thus he would not have to pay!.. Oh… Yet he will...  Conroy’s far more dull-minded right hand Bishop Form was much easier to eventually capture. Unwilling to leave Saint Cartha for too long because of Irene’s fragile condition, Valak brought his prisoner to the stronghold’s dungeons.

 

Did it worry him?.. Greatly. Last thing the demon desired was for his beloved to discover this gory situation, let alone involving a man she knew personally, who in a way had aided her long years ago. He took every possible precaution of warding the dungeon from Irene’s keen senses, however who could guess the true capability of her sharp metaphysical eye?.. He could not order soldiers to guard the door... Irene would undoubtedly sense their presence and certainly ask questions! Hellhounds?... No need of even mentioning the beasts! All the noise they make could wake dry ones up. Thus for this very reason, despite his usual sadistic glee, he was growing impatient with the man.  

 

“You…” the Bishop mumbled “Will ne-... Will never… know… un-... unholy… spirit” he spat.

 

Valak huffed, wrath slowly morphing into scorn. Exorcists… Always so stupidly brave, wallowing in the illusion of a courageous battle against evil.

 

“Chasing the glory of a martyr, man of God?.. By defending a sinner and a traitor wearing the skin of a lamb?..” he taunted “Well… I suppose more fun for me anyway, then. I adore tearing little Saints like you apart. They all break eventually”.

 

Briefly, the demon glanced at a long iron table on his right, pondering for a mellow moment before snatching a simple butcher’s knife - one left rusted and blunt for most malicious purpose. Fixing the instrument to his belt, Valak brushed the already clotted secretion off his captive’s shut lids with mocking gentleness, intending to have the man witness every coming wound be inflicted. Smiling cruelly, Valak spared the victim from empty threats and plunged the blade into his midsection, sighing with satisfaction as his dry throat rumbled with most primeval shriek of a tormented beast. Lips quirking into a diabolical smirk, he twisted the knife to rouse another one - louder, more agonized, and only when it faded into a pained gargle he spoke once again:

 

“Starving, aren’t you, my little friend?.. Poor Bishop Form… Allow me, a felon old Devil, to correct my mistake” he coaxed fiendishly, cleaning foam off the wheezing prisoner’s mouth before swiftly slashing the man’s stomach open and grasping a fistful of spilling intestines, yanking the lump out before cutting it free.

 

“Your body. Eat it” he recited with sadistic glee as he slowly thrust the reeking guts down Bishop Form’s throat, causing him to gag in hysteria of raging pain and disgust, instinctively convulsing in a desperate attempt to spit the unwelcome content out.

 

The resistance caused Valak to click his tongue in acrimonious discontent:

 

“How ungrateful…” he sneered “Let alone for a Catholic! It seems a lesson needs to be taught” he hissed ominously, one hand ruthlessly holding the struggling man’s jaw shut while another’s index finger trailed over his trembling lips, skin punctured and hauled by a thread which manifested out of thin air, neatly stitching the Bishop’s mouth shut.

 

The prisoner thrashed and wheezed, pained lungs rumbling with a scream that poured only as a croak through the stitches, making Valak scoff with satisfaction. Loose parts of intestines still hung out of the gaping gash in Form’s naked stomach, a few pieces dropping into the pool of blood and bile beneath his feet.

 

“You know the spell has robbed you of salvation in Azrael’s hands. You can not die, not until I allow you. I suggest you consider untying your tongue upon my return. You will speak, Bishop. One way or another. It is though for you to choose how long you will suffer… And how badly” Valak warned “Now, I have far more important matters to attend to”.

 

***

 

“Father, I understand your worry…” Sister Magdalene gave the priest a sorrowful smile “As well as your wish to unravel the truth. However you should remember a very likely possibility of Sister Irene leaving the convent on her own accord instead of a malevolent force, be it of human or hellish nature, bearing responsibility for her vanishing”.

 

Rattling of pots and bubbling water poured in through the ajar door, delicious smells of cooking stew, freshly baked bread and brewing camomile tea filled the warm air around them, tickling Anthony Burke’s nostrils and making his empty stomach growl, however the priest ignored the wailful demands of his tired body. Sister Magdalene - an elderly nun of a pleasantly radiant face and gently shimmering blue eyes - had taken him aside to a less crowded corner of the hospital’s kitchen, appearing much kinder and more willing to converse than Sister Judith.

 

“I highly doubt it” the man shook his head bitterly “Sister Irene’s sense of duty and loyalty is far too great… She would not simply disappear without and explanation”.

 

“Father, I have known Sister Irene since she joined the convent as a novice at the age of nineteen” Sister Magdalene grasped the priest’s shoulder in an attempt to soothe him almost like a grandmother would “I certainly know her loyal nature. But she doubted her faith from the very beginning, which I’m not surprised by at all. I am an old woman, Father. I have seen many youngsters come and go. It would only be natural if after a journey abroad she finally decided to take a step forward”.

 

“No, Sister Magdalene” Burke argued, breathing sharply and wild-gazed “Sister Irene found her faith during our journey! I… She took her wows, Sister Magdalene. I received her vows myself!”.

 

“It was an impulsive decision of hers” Sister Magdalene offered patiently “At that moment, devoting her life to God appeared the right decision. I do not know for what reason did you require her company on the trip, yet I have my suspicions… I have had many encounters of my own with spirits not of this world - good and evil alike. Those experiences tend to enlighten, push one towards God. But Sister Irene is a vivid and fiery spirit. In my humble opinion, too vivid for a lifetime of Devotion as a Bride of Christ. Upon her return, she felt trapped, and it was the reason why sudden ailment latched itself to her.  Perhaps loss of faith is not a fitting description… She realized that wearing a habit is not her purpose on this Earth, and she is yet to find her path”.

 

“It still does not explain why she refused to leave at least a note…”.

 

“She felt ashamed of her choice. Ashamed to break her vows, as one is not supposed to” Sister Magdalene cut him off softly “So she left quietly, in secret. Father Burke… I can see the lighting in your eyes, and I am almost certain you shall not calm down until our sweet friend’s fate is no longer a mystery. I admit, and let it remain a secret between us… I wish you success with all my heart. I will not try to dissuade you even though I should. I hope one day Sister Irene is found alive and well… And that she discovers the true meaning of her destiny”.  

 

***

 

Irene leaned against satin cushions of the windowseat, thoughts absorbed by “The Colour out of Space”, rosy lips curled into a small smile, bright eyes widened and shimmering, for she could not help but admire the eerily bewitching story despite frosty shivers of terror which at times would tingle her bones. Irene had discovered the abysmal works of H.P. Lovecraft purely by accident, while searching her diabolical sweetheart’s vast library for a read that did not happen to be yet another black magic grimoire, and soon realised how much she had missed out by focusing on Biblical Scriptures (well, and fairytales she would often read before bedtime to the children she took care of in the hospital). Valak had caught his darling with the book in her hands many times, at first pleasantly surprised by her fondness for the frightening tales, however shocked her no less upon revealing the mastermind behind such genial stories of unfathomable cosmic horror was looked down upon and scorned as strange… Mankind indeed was awfully prone of pushing their greatest minds away. She could only hope that one day, despite having perished years ago, Lovecraft shall gain the adoration he deserves, as well as feel glad her lover had a much better taste than her kind.

 

Dreamily, Irene glanced through the glass. Large snowflakes lazily danced in the quiescent nocturnal air, shimmering silver from the sickly pale moonlight which illuminated them. Mountains dwelt in gaunt clutches of winter - harsh and gravely white. Her gaze soared up, at the somber sky, and she suddenly caught herself wondering - what if one day, it truly spat out a mysterious meteor bearing those maddening, life-devouring hues in it’s core?.. What eldritch horrors might in darkest, furthest gulfs of cosmos, beyond Heaven’s eternal dawn?.. She sniggered, feeling almost childish, but could she possibly help it?.. The stories felt so real… After all, if Eden and Inferno existed, why could not Cthulhu, or Yog-Sothoth, or Nyarlathotep?.. Silly!

 

“I doubt you two will hear Snow White or Cinderella on cold nights such as this…” she murmured softly, caressing her round midsection “They seem terribly boring compared to all those tales of monsters and… cosmic entities. But… You would not understand Lovecraft, not for a while, would you?.. Maybe I will read Edgar Allan Poe to you… Or perhaps a story about vampires…” she chuckled “We live in a land of vampires after all.. Ah!” Irene leapt up with a gasp, unexpectedly sensing another presence in the room “Sister Oana…” she breathed with relief.

 

“Forgive me for spooking you” Sister Oana spoke softly.

 

“It’s alright” Irene assured “I had my nose too deep in the book”.

 

“I thought you would still be asleep, and wanted to check on you”.

 

All specters of Saint Cartha had grown attached to Irene and her unborn little ones beyond belief, however not even Abelair or Mother Superior guarded them as fiercely as Sister Oana did. The phantom nun often refused to leave her living friend’s side unless Valak was close by and would grow uneasy in any situation bearing the slightest chance of Irene and the little ones being threatened.

 

“I woke up a while ago” Irene set the book aside and playfully patted the cushions, inviting her ghostly friend to join her on the windowseat.

 

Last memory of hers before silky oblivion of slumber was the greenhouse, and Valak’s strong arms holding her close as his gorgeous voice lulled her tenderly, but upon stirring she found herself under warm covers in their bed… alone. Assuming Valak must be attending dire matters of Hell, she decided to wallow in fiction during the rare time of their little ones staying calm.

 

“It must be hard…” Sister Oana shyly placed her lifeless hand on Irene’s stomach “I heard it is… For pregnant women I mean. Especially with such a troublemaker as the Father”.

 

“Sometimes it is” Irene confessed, giggling at the ghost’s comment about her darling demon “Yet worth it… Undoubtedly worth it. As for Val, he… may be an imp at times. But my heart would want no other. By the way… How about yourself?”.

 

“What about myself?” Sister Oana frowned in confusion.

 

“You and Abelair” she suggested mischievously.

 

“What?..” Sister Oana’s mouth fell agape, and for very first time she felt genuinely grateful for being deceased as it prevented her cheeks from flushing burning pink “Irene!.. I… We… What made you think me and the Duke... What made you think there’s anything of that kind between us?!..”.

 

“Sister Oana, do you think of me as stupid?” the former novice teased with a grin “You two bicker like and old married couple”.

 

“That’s because we do not get along!”.

 

“No, Abelair and Sister Ruth do not get along. Now these two despise one another. You and him on the other hand… Not hostility, not at all. It’s… more like frustration and awkwardness. You like to think you are foes, but deep down long to embrace. Anyone watching from aside can tell. Only you two can not, but it’s always that way I suppose… Besides, you have already kissed him, have you not?..”.

 

“How did you?!.” Sister Oana yelped.

 

“My visions” Irene reminded just a little bit smugly “One time I saw you two kiss in the ice house”.

 

“It…” the wraith looked away in shame “It must have been a dream...”.

 

A pointless argument, Sister Oana knew. After all, the kiss… had truly happened. In the ice house... But why did Irene tease her about it?... One time! It did not mean a thing. She was furious, unaware of her own actions… Pushed him against the wall and slammed her lips against his. For a moment it felt… It felt beautiful. Yet then, she realized what had just happened and… Ran away. He tried to stop her, but she broke out of his grasp ran away… She thought of that kiss so often. Thought of him… Could it be… that she liked him?..

 

“I doubt I was dreaming on a walk through the forest with Val. Sister Oana…” Irene grasped her friend’s wrist “If you truly feel something, you should not be ashamed. There’s nothing wrong in loving. And if you feel bound by your vows… Well” her voice regained a gently sincere tone “You can say death has liberated you. You do not belong to God. Only to yourself. You have the right to choose what, or who makes you happy”.

 

“That’s very kind of you to say…” Sister Oana mumbled.

 

Before Irene could respond, a peculiar sight caught her eye - the fireplace which mellowly smouldered moments before now roared ablaze, it’s fiery tongues crimson in color. Angrily, they leapt and fell and battled, but hellish luminary soon began to dim as she watched on, a shape forming in now cooling embers. A single rose?..

 

“What’s going on?..” Sister Oana wondered out loud.

 

“It must be a message from Val…” Irene commented, rising up and striding over to the fireplace as hastily as her heavy midsection allowed.

 

Indeed, a single white rose with a black ribbon tied around it… Wait… An envelope.  Firm black paper adorned with gold… Sealed with Valak’s sigil in red wax. She glanced at Sister Oana one more time before breaking the seal. There was a small note inside... Undoubtedly Valak’s handwriting - neat, calligraphic, resembling old old gothic scripts.

 

_“ **My dearest Irene,** _

**_I apologize for slipping away instead of guarding your sleep. Meet me in the Chapel of Lucifer._ **

_**V** ” _

 

***

 

Anthony Burke strode through the garishly illuminated corridors, rushing to escape this damned hospital as he silently struggled to form a coherent plan. Images of Sister Irene’s beautiful face plagued his sullen mind. Her laughter that time he set their baggage into the trunk of a villager’s car by mistake. Her fright, her determination… Doubt in her eyes as they spoke about faith before leaving Saint Cartha. He was the one to blame!.. He asked Sister Irene to accompany him, he was responsible for every horror she went through in Saint Cartha! And guilt was tearing him apart. Not even Daniel’s untimely death had been a venomous to his soul. Daniel was an innocent child, his responsibility… But Irene… She was his friend. Only true friend he ever had! He must find her. Sister Magdalene might be a wise woman, but she was wrong. Sister Irene did not leave the order on her own accord, he knew it, he felt it at the bottom of his chest. And Sister Judith… he did not want to believe her grim guesses. Sister Irene could not be dead, she just could not…

 

Lost in dismal thoughts, the priest did not notice a novice - a lithe young woman of celtic complexion, approaching. Not until she grabbed him by the shoulder quietly, causing the man to gasp in surprise.

 

“Quiet, Father!..” she warned, green eyes darting around with unease.

 

“Sister, wha-...”.

 

“You are looking for Sister Irene, aren’t you?” she cut him off hurriedly.

 

“Yes…” Burke mumbled, heartbeat pulsing rapidly - suddenly and a little bit foolishly hopeful.

 

“There’s something I need to tell you. Come with me” the novice ushered him into the nearest room - a classroom she likely knew to be empty, and shut the door behind them “Other Sisters are unaware of this. I hid” she spun around to face him “it even from the Police. Irene asked me to and I refused to betray her. Have they told you Sister Irene was sick before her disappearance?”.

 

“Yes” he nodded swiftly.

 

“Well” the novice bit her lip, toying with the wooden crucifix around her neck “She came to me and asked for an examination. The vomiting was incredibly tiring for her and… It seems I could only prove what she likely already suspected” the novice looked away, breathless, for it felt as if lanky invisible fingers had wrapped around her throat, thus she could not, simply could not force the truth out.

 

“Sister, please!..” Burke grabbed her by the shoulders a little too roughly, making the poor girl yelp painfully “Please, tell me what happened?..”.

 

The man was hardly able to control himself anymore, every nerve in his body trembling, vision growling blurry, mouth as if full of sand. What could she possibly have discovered?! What… what tormented Sister Irene?! Could it be some deadly disease?... Oh Heavens… Could the evil of Saint Cartha still linger in her blood, slowly poisoning her?.. God…

 

“You’re hurting me, Father!” the novice hissed, breaking out of his grasp “Alright… alright…” she inhaled sharply “Sister Irene… she was with child”.

 

Anthony Burke stumbled backwards, the young woman in front of him suddenly splitting into three rippling, almost gossamer faceless shapes. Before he knew it, there was a sharp pang at the back of his skull, and everything went black.

 

***

 

The Chapel’s walls were overgrown with gorgeous, velvety maroon blooms… Completely shrouded! Tiny flakes of gold idly spun in the air as if snow outside the castle’s stained glass windows, glistening and shimmering. Her bewildered bourbon-colored gaze caught familiar poisonous orbs.

 

“Val… What’s this… What’s going on?”.

 

“What I should have done months ago” scarred lips quirked into a smile.

 

Slowly, the demon approached her, and Irene fought unbearable urge to clutch her chest. He was so… so incredibly gorgeous! Reflections of almost celestial golden caressed his frosty skin, his sleek crooked horns and onyx black hair, danced on the fine fabric of his mantle - raven feathers which adorned it’s shoulders fracturing the light, now painted in blue and green and violet hues. She did not know however, neither could guess in her surprise, that to him she appeared just as ravishing, almost divine - the only angel he still adored and lone holy thing he still worshipped. He stilled suddenly, and for a mere moment the two stared at each other in silence, though before Irene could utter another word he broke the tranquility, lowering himself as if a knight would - one knee bent in front of his beloved dame.

 

“Irene, my dear Irene, joy of my somber eternity” his lips were still crooked, but his deep, lispy voice oozed such warm, sincerely honeyed tenderness her lungs grew dry and her soul began to melt, heart frantic with anticipation “Will you rise as my equal in the eyes of Hell and of Lucifer himself? Will you join me for aeons to come as my queen…” he snapped a tiny crimson box (which she had no idea he held until now) open, revealing a breathtakingly elegant platinum ring shaped as an Ouroboros that devoured a massive, blood red diamond instead of it’s tail “and my beloved wife?”.

 

In furthest, most abstract corner of herself Irene had realized what question was to sound before it emerged from his throat, but when it finally came her vision grew blurry, and she almost collapsed in sheer, overwhelming emotion. She… did not expect him to ever… She never thought it even occurred among ungodly spirits!...

 

“Yes...” she whispered almost inaudibly, tears of joy soaking the porcelain skin of her cheeks “Yes!.. Of… Of course I will!”.

   

Eyes fixated on his face that now shone with even more adoration, she sensed cold metal slip onto her finger before at last, Valak allowed himself to rise, strong arms snaking around her delicate waist, bringing her close, his forehead briefly brushing against hers.

 

“My betrothed…” he mouthed, catching her satiny lips in a gentle kiss.

 

The white linen shirt soaked in blood and bile of Bishop Form had long crumbled into ash.


End file.
